Lords of the Universe
by Bashivey
Summary: SPN post 6.22, DW post 6.08. The Doctor and the Ponds come to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel too? Larger summary inside.
1. Prologue

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings: **Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Dean has been crying again. He would never admit it, of course, and Sam would have a broken nose if he ever tried to talk to him about it, but he knows and it breaks his heart in a way that remembering Hell never could. Sure, Sam has tried on many occasions in the past to get Dean to open up about how he feels. He tried when their Dad died. He tried when Ellen and Jo died. He tried when he got Castiel to wipe Lisa and Ben's memories of him. But he doesn't even know where to begin with the former angel.

For one, he's not sure how he feels himself. He's angry at Cas. How could he forgive him for bringing him back without a soul? Yet he knows, deep-down, that Cas didn't do it on purpose. That he should be grateful for him at least _trying_ to rescue him. Especially now he remembers bits and pieces of what was done to him... But Cas should have done _something_. He should have _told_ someone. Even if he didn't want to tell Dean and ruin his chance at happiness outside of hunting, he could have stopped by at Bobby's. Hell, he could've just _told _Sam. Not that maybe soulless Sam would've listened.

He sighs and runs a hand across his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there. He needs a shave.

It's been nearly three days since Castiel didn't kill them. He looked about ready to after Dean had threatened him. "You can shove your undying love up your ass," he had spat, tears threatening to fall. The words he _didn't_ say rang clear through the warehouse; that he already loved the _old_ Cas. That seeing Cas like this was killing him. The penny had finally dropped. Yet another person he had come to rely upon had done what Dean had been waiting for; betrayal. He didn't say any of it; just hid behind his sharp tongue like he had always done.

But Sam knew. He knows his brother better than anyone.

Before the anger that flashed behind Castiel's bright blue eyes could be unleashed, however, the former angel suddenly paused, his mind clearly elsewhere. Sam looked at Dean and then to Bobby, who both looked equally as confused as Sam felt.

And then he smiled that eerily serene smile that made him look nothing like the Cas they knew and everything like Castiel, the new and improved God, and he told them he had to leave. He had more pressing concerns than three insignificant human beings to attend to. Yet, as a token of his love, and out of respect to their former bonds, he would let them live. For now. They had a week's grace. Seven days to mourn their loss, and then, _then_, they must decide where they stand.

Of course, Dean couldn't just let it be. He told Cas to kill them then and there or they would find a way to stop him, no matter what it takes, so help him... God.

Castiel just smiled once more. And then, without even a hint of a whisper of his former wings, he was gone.

Sam goes outside to find his brother, who's sitting on the hood of the Impala. The badly crumpled Impala. A bottle of whiskey is in his hand and Sam frowns. A part of him doesn't approve. Wants Dean to stop drinking so much and start opening up. But instead he says nothing and simply joins his brother on the hood, wincing when the metal groans in protest, and takes a swig of the proffered bottle. He grimaces as the liquor burns a path down his throat.

"It's not the good stuff," comments Sam.

Dean takes a moment to speak, before admitting gruffly that it was pretty shit.

Sam can see where tears had made tracks down his brother's face, shiny amongst all the grime of engine grease. "How's she coming along?" he asks hesitantly.

Dean doesn't need to ask who 'she' is. He shrugs before taking another swig of the bottle. "I don't know, Sam," he sighs. "I don't think there's any point."

"In what? Fixing her?"

Dean shrugs again. "In four days we'll be toast anyway, so what's the point?"

Sam wants to hit his brother. What was the point in them righting her back onto her wheels and towing her from that bloody warehouse then if he was just going to leave the car in this state? He lets out a breath and takes the bottle from Dean's hands, taking a long pull. It doesn't taste as awful the second time around.

Resolutely, he tells Dean, "We'll fix her after we sort this mess out with Cas."

Dean gives Sam a hard look, somewhere between anger and surprise shining on his face. Sam holds his ground, waiting. And then Dean chuckles, the sound rough and without mirth. It sounds like nails rattling. "Sort this mess out?" he reiterates. "Sure, Sam. You got any ideas how we go about doing that?"

"We'll find a way. We always do."

"We always do, huh?" replies Dean. He shakes his head, that bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I think whenever we try and find a way to sort things out, we just make things worse."

"You can't believe that," begins Sam, but he's cut off.

"I do, Sammy. Every time. Every single fucking time we've ever tried to put things right shit's just gotten worse. What makes you think this will be any different?"

"So what are you saying?" says Sam, getting worked up. He can feel a pressure building in the back of his head. His vision is getting blurry. "Are you saying that we just give up?"

Dean looks at Sam, frowning. Maybe he can tell something's up because he puts a reassuring hand on Sam's arm. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what to do."

But that's not enough. They need to know. They need to have a plan. Sam's heart is pounding in his ears, and he shouts, angrily, "Should we just lay down and die, then? Or should we profess our undying love to our new God?"

Dean shoots Sam a look that would stop anyone in their tracks, but Sam's not even completely there anymore and Dean's eyes widen in shock upon realising too late. The last thing Sam hears is Dean shouting for Bobby, before the world around him disappears and he's surrounded by the fires of Hell.

* * *

><p>In his mind, he's praying. Not to God – old or new – not to the angels, the angels who have played with and tortured him for decades... but to the universe. He casts out his hopes and dreams, his worries and fears, across all of time and space. But his prayers are quickly whisked away from him and then there's no escape from the memories.<p>

* * *

><p>Billions of light-years away in a time yet to pass, a mad man in a strange blue box feels a tug of psychic power and pauses in his spiel to his two companions.<p>

"Doctor?" one questions. "Is everything okay?"

Frowning, he pulls out the psychic paper from his coat pocket and reads aloud to himself: _Please help my brother. Please save us from the monsters. Please save us from ourselves._

"Time to go, gang!" replies the Doctor. "I've always wanted to meet the Winchesters!"


	2. Chapter 1

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings: **Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

**A/N:** Before anyone mentions it, it was a creative decision to have the prologue written in present tense and the rest of the story in past tense. I just felt as though it gave the prologue a little more urgency written that way. The rest of the story will be pretty consistent in tense unless I find another reason to change it :) If you notice any inconsistencies, however, or any other grammatical issues at all really, please let me know! Honestly, I'd appreciate reviews no matter what they say, be it praise or criticism. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Dean Winchester was lying on the hood of the Impala again, drinking more of Bobby's cheap whiskey and generally feeling sorry for himself. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the windscreen, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the cracks in the glass. Bobby would call him an 'idjit' for sitting on his broken car but he didn't care. The Impala was still his home and it was where he wanted to be. It was the only place left on the Earth where he felt like there was even a snowball's chance of things turning out okay.

Sam was having another one of his episodes. Dean wasn't sure how else to describe them. Since the wall came down inside his head, Sam's stability had been unpredictable at best. Sometimes he was fine. He could recall bits and pieces of Hell, although he didn't seem all that interested in swapping stories, which Dean was more than grateful for. He didn't want to think about his brother's torture, especially considering he'd made the choice to leave Adam down there... But then suddenly, Sam would collapse and no amount of Dean's shouting could return him to consciousness. He had to come back of his own volition; when he came to terms with the memories he was recalling.

Dean took another swig of the whiskey, bitterness breeding deep within him. Seven day's grace? That was all he was worth now? Well, Cas could shove his seven day's grace right up his nuke-fuelled ass, for all that Dean was concerned.

He was angry. Angry at Cas for not being Cas. For not trusting him enough to help.

_Dammit Cas, we can fix this!_

_ Dean, it's not broken!_

The words reverberated inside his head, he could hear the deep gravelly tone of the former angel's voice, clashing so terribly with the softer tones he used as 'God.' He never thought he would miss the angel's voice. _Don't ever change._ The thought made him furious.

He looked down at his free hand and realised he had clenched it into a tight fist. He watched as he carefully relaxed it, stretching the fingers as far apart as he could, and then took another swig from his bottle.

The truth of the matter was he was furious with himself. How could he have let this happen? _Again?_ Was he really so stupid, so _blind_, that he let his family continuously make ultimate sacrifices for the 'greater good'? First Sam chugging down demon blood all in the name of 'good intentions,' and now Cas too, chock full of the souls of purgatory's most fearsome. How could they be so narrow-sighted? How could they not see that the cost was not worth the reward?

He took another swig of the whiskey, starting to feel how drunk he really was. His limbs felt heavy, his head too light. He knew Bobby would belt him for drinking so much when they only had four days left to come up with a plan to bring down the new God or be smote. He sighed once more, angry at feeling his breath hitch. He was tired of crying. He needed to get himself under control; he was angry with himself for getting so worked up, like a little bitch.

_You know who whines? Babies._

His words came back to him, his throat tightening at the memory, and he pushed the thoughts, and the memories they conjured up of the former angel aside.

He was worried about Sam, about whether or not he would be okay. Whether or not he was strong enough to overcome what had happened to him in the Pit. Whether or not he would ever be any good in a fight again, much less in one against God. Death had warned him not to let that wall drop and now it was down... All thanks to their new 'Lord and Saviour.'

The wind began to stir and Dean huddled into himself, frowning at the strange whirring noise that suddenly filled the yard. He couldn't determine what it was – a rusty gate rattling maybe? – much less where it was coming from. Then before his eyes, a blue box slowly materialised.

"...The fuck?" mumbled Dean, sitting forward a little to stare in confusion.

Yep. There was definitely a wooden police box in front of him, whatever a 'police box' even was. He stared dumbly at the box and nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey when the door opened and out stepped three people.

* * *

><p>"So where are we?" asked Amy, leaning across the console, her large eyes looking up through her lashes at the Doctor as he checked the conditions of their surroundings on the monitor.<p>

The Doctor grinned that maniacal grin of his that made Amy roll her eyes, a matching grin splitting her lips wide. "Ponds, you are in for an absolute treat. Today we're meeting the Winchesters!"

"You've mentioned their names already," pointed out Rory, coming up to stand behind his wife, who slipped her hand comfortably into his. "But who exactly _are_ the Winchesters? What's so special about them?"

"Absolutely nothing!" chirped the Doctor, slipping his arms into his jacket, which had been slung carelessly across the console. "That's what makes them so wonderful," he continued. "They're two brothers bound by fate, defying their destinies at every turn. There are so many different universes, parallels and possibilities surrounding their timelines, it's... confusing for a Time Lord to be around them. Not only because I can see every possibility, but also because we have a habit of, well, convoluting an already very convoluted stream, which is why I've tried to stay out of their mess as best I can. Plus religious wars have never really been my forte..."

"Religious wars?" chimed in Amy, following the Doctor to the door and dragging her husband along behind her. "Why are we here now, then?"

He turned to face them, one hand on the latch. "Because I received a cry for help from one of them, the youngest – Sam, I believe. And I couldn't very well refuse, now could I?"

And at that he opened the door, smile in place, and came face-to-face with a very confused looking Dean Winchester.

"Hello!" greeted the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor! And you must be Dean Winchester."

* * *

><p>Dean stared dumbly at the three people who had appeared from the box and said the first thing that came to his intoxicated mind, "Doctor Who?"<p>

The man's grin widened even further; Dean was surprised that was even physically possible. But then, this Doctor or whatever he was had the biggest chin Dean had ever seen, so maybe it was.

"Just 'the Doctor," he explained before gesturing to the couple alongside him, "And this is Amy and Rory, my companions."

"You never mentioned how good looking these Winchester blokes were," murmured the red-headed girl – Amy – who was standing next to the Doctor. She blatantly gave Dean the once over, before the Doctor mentioned, "They're married, by the way."

"Thanks Doc," mumbled Rory, giving his wife a nudge in the ribs.

"What?" protested Amy with a smirk. "Just wasn't what I was expecting is all, what with him going on about religious wars. Thought we'd be in the twelfth century, or Amish country or something."

Dean wasn't sobering up any time soon and his brain was struggling to wrap his head around the situation he found himself in. These people had just materialised in the middle of Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard, despite their very thorough, triple-checked wards. Did that mean they weren't a threat, or were there still a few mistakes in the symbols? What the hell were they and why was the redhead talking about religious wars and different centuries? Could they travel through time like the angels? And what was with the box? Was that some kind of supernatural joke he had missed?

"Perhaps we should explain ourselves," began the Doctor, but he was cut off by the sound of a shotgun being cocked, drawing everyone's attention to the front porch where Bobby Singer stood. He held in his hands a shotgun, pointed straight at the Doctor, who frowned but didn't raise his hands.

"Dean," growled Bobby, not taking his eyes from the three trespassers. "Who're your friends?"

Dean scrambled from the hood of his car, trying not to appear as drunk as he felt. "You got me," he replied, his voice thick and gravelly from too much whiskey. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, but he pushed on, "This bloke here calls himself 'The Doctor.'"

"'The Doctor'? The fuck kind of name is that?" muttered Bobby. The Doctor didn't say anything; he just continued to look back and forth between the two hunters, as if gauging their relationship. Dean swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit. He was way out of his comfort zone. What the hell were they dealing with?

Dean shrugged. "They just appeared, Bobby. Got through the warding..." he trailed off, turning his attention from the old hunter back to the trio. Amy looked as though she were about to open her mouth again, but the Doctor silenced her with a look.

Bobby snorted at Dean's words. "Got through my perfect warding, huh?" he repeated. He glanced at Dean quickly, before returning his full attention to the Doctor and his companions. "Get the hell off my property," he barked. "And take your box with you."

The Doctor didn't move an inch. Ignoring Bobby completely, as if he had determined the man holding a shotgun was of little consequence to him, he looked directly at Dean and told him, "I have a message from your brother."

Dean felt his heart constrict in his chest. Immediately, he wanted to check on Sam, make sure he was still safe and sound in the panic room. That this Doctor hadn't somehow managed to smuggle him away right under their noses. And then the guilt-wrenching thought that the message was actually from Adam nearly undid him. Did Adam know he had given up on his rescue so quickly?

Thoughts of Adam were buried once more, however, as the Doctor continued, "Sam Winchester called me here."

"Well pal, I've never seen you before in my life," replied Dean. "Sam's never mentioned you either, so what makes you think I'm going to believe that?"

"Because, Dean Winchester, Sam asked me to help you. He prayed for someone to save you from the monsters – and well, basically, that's what I do."

"You're a hunter?" asked Bobby.

"No," replied the Doctor, a maniacal smile lighting up his face. "I'm a Time Lord."


	3. Chapter 2

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings: **Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"So let me get this straight – that box out there is a time machine?"

"Yes."

"And you're an _alien_?"

"That's right."

Dean shook his head, disbelieving. "No, that _can't_ be right. We've done research on this. The last time I nearly considered it I ended up servicing the king of the bloody fairies."

"You met Oberon?" asked the Doctor excitedly and Dean shot him a dirty look.

"Look buddy, I'm not buying what you're selling, so how about you cut the crap," he replied.

The Doctor sighed. "I know time travel is a difficult concept when you haven't had twelve years to adjust to the idea," he said, glancing at Amy who rolled her eyes.

"It's not time travel I've got a problem with," replied Dean. "Been there, done that." He took a moment's satisfaction upon seeing the surprised looks on the three supposed time travellers' faces before continuing, "My issue is the only creature we've ever known who can do it are angels – and you're definitely not like any angel we've ever met, so what are you, really?"

The Doctor pursed his lips before replying evenly, "I told you. I'm a Time Lord."

Dean sighed and ran a hand along his jaw. He was definitely sober now. Since Bobby had loosened up enough to let the three time travellers in his house they had been going over their story, trying to piece it together with the knowledge they already had of such things – which was squat, mostly, Dean had to admit. That they weren't a threat, however, had been established of course. The Doctor was happy to do all their standard tests – salt, silver and holy water – but he seemed less than pleased about Amy and Rory having to take part as well, especially the silver blade part. Dean knew it sucked, having done it enough times himself, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Bobby came back into the lounge room from the kitchen, brandishing a tray of mugs, looking every bit the gracious host and nothing like the fierce hunter on the porch less than an hour ago. He offered his three guests a cup of tea, being Brits and all, before handing Dean his mug of Joe. As Dean took the proffered mug, he traded a secretive glance with the old hunter and felt his stomach unclench. Sam was okay; Bobby had checked on him.

"Where is Sam?" asked the Doctor, looking around the room expectantly, and that sent chills right up and down Dean's spine. Could he read Dean's thoughts? Or did he simply read the relief on Dean's face?

"Out," replied Dean gruffly.

The Doctor seemed disappointed at that, and slumped into the couch the three time travellers were squashed onto. Dean continued to stand, leaning against the wall, taking a sip of his still-hot coffee. He felt it burn a pathway down to his belly, pooling warmth in a way the whiskey could not and he felt his senses tingle at the caffeine entering his system.

Bobby cleared his throat. "While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I had a look over some of my files. There's been a lot of crazy shit happening in the UK in the last five or six years," he began, handing a few papers to Dean. "Alien sightings across the country and the like. Some of it could be passed off as simple monster hunts, but there's shit I can't explain, too."

Dean glanced at the newspaper articles. Spaceships over London, alien-like creatures roaming the streets at night, what appeared to be specialist government agencies taking care of the situations in secret... "Huh," began Dean. "Looks like hunting is a paid job across the Atlantic."

The Doctor frowned. "So you don't remember the planets in the sky, either?"

"What planets in the sky?"

"Never mind," he answered, something obviously troubling him. Dean let the matter drop. He didn't need to add a supposed alien's worries on top of his already overflowing plate.

Bobby continued, "The thing is, one word that always comes up when these stories surface is 'Doctor.'"

Dean looked from Bobby to the Doctor at that, who both looked as though they were in the middle of a pretty intense staring contest. Flittingly, Dean wondered if that was how he and Cas appeared to onlookers when Dean got lost in the angel's gaze, and then he immediately clamped down on those thoughts, a flash of anger at himself for even thinking about it. Cas isn't Cas anymore, he reminded himself sternly.

"Well, I think that question's easy enough to answer," Amy finally spoke up, obviously sick of keeping quiet. The Doctor broke his gaze with the old hunter to spare a glance at his companion, before she continued, "It's because he was _there_. The Doctor saves the day. That's what he does. So, if you don't mind, we'd really like to see Sam and find out why he called us here."

* * *

><p>The Doctor regarded Dean Winchester with a steady gaze, almost pitying the position he was in. The Time Lord could see the battle on the man's features, weighing up whether or not to tell them where Sam was. He guessed those whereabouts to be somewhere in the house; he hadn't missed the look the two hunters had shared when Bobby had returned to his living area. He was bursting to meet the youngest Winchester, wanted to know how and why he had sent out such a prayer and what he could do to help. But he also knew how much the two brothers had been through, how many times they had been betrayed, and he knew he needed to tread carefully. Just looking at Dean, he could sense all the different time lines converging on him. Alternate and parallel paths swirled all around Dean's very being, making the Doctor dizzy. If he wasn't careful he could get lost in the possibilities.<p>

Amy shifted alongside him, breaking him out of his reverie. She was getting restless; Rory's steady presence not enough to keep her in check for long. He had managed to silence her earlier with nothing more than a look but he knew she was well past that point. She was tired of pandering to what she saw as two grouchy men's superstitious paranoia. Before she could speak again, however, Dean cleared his throat. He glanced at Bobby quickly before turning his hard gaze on the Doctor. "How did Sam call you here?"

The Doctor pulled out the psychic paper from his coat pocket and handed it to the man. Dean opened the wallet and frowned. "It's just blank paper," he said, inspecting it closely.

"It's psychic," supplied the Doctor. "Shows you whatever I want you to see. Passport, IDs, what I had for breakfast, anything I want. Comes in handy more often than not, that's for sure."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Could use some of this ourselves," he admitted ruefully before looking up expectantly at the Time Lord, waiting for him to finish explaining.

"Sometimes when a thought is strong enough, usually due to a latent psychic ability, and directed in the right manner, I can receive their thoughts as a message on this paper."

"So you go around answering people's psychic prayers?"

The Doctor shrugged before smiling. "In between saving the universe, sure."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at that, before returning his gaze to the paper. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting every inch of it, as though he were waiting for it to do something. "So what did Sammy pray? 'Save us from the monsters'?"

The Doctor hesitated a moment before answering. He didn't know whether he should divulge the entirety of Sam's message to Dean, unsure whether Sam had been aware of what he had prayed for himself. "Yes," he began, before adding, "Although his first thought was for you, actually. He pleaded for someone to help his brother."

Dean looked up sharply at that, an unreadable expression on his face, but he quickly masked it when Bobby rose to his feet. "Dean. A word," was all the gruff hunter said before stepping out of the living room and into the kitchen. Dean watched the man leave and then, pushing himself up from the wall he had been leaning against, he handed back the psychic paper. "We'll be back in a minute," he supplied before following in Bobby Singer's footsteps.

The moment the kitchen doors were closed, Amy let out a sigh and got to her feet. She stretched her arms high above her head, her flannel shirt lifting with her to reveal the skin of her back. "How much longer are we going to be stuck here _waiting_?" she grumbled before dropping her arms suddenly, her hands slapping her thighs. She spun around to face the Doctor and her husband. The shallow cut on her forearm from the silver blade shone red on her pale skin, matching the shade of her shirt.

"Well?" she prompted, hands on hips, upon receiving no response from either of them.

Rory got to his feet as well, imitating his wife's stretch, as well as cracking his neck. Amy scrunched up her nose at the sound of bone's popping and Rory smiled sheepishly. The Doctor remained seated. "The angels they mentioned, Doctor," began Rory. "Were they talking about the weeping angels?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, they weren't," he replied. "The angels Dean spoke of are a far older race. A sister species, certainly, but more powerful." He paused for a moment, contemplating how to explain before continuing, "Like the weeping angels, they don't always exist in corporeal bodies, or at least in any form we could interpret without our eyes being burned from our skulls..."

"Oh, well that sounds nice," quipped Rory.

"But we've seen the weeping angels, Doctor," began Amy, frowning as she tried to piece together the Doctor's explanation.

He nodded. "Yes, the weeping angels assume an interpretable form when another creature looks upon them," he explained. "Dean's angels don't have that luxury. They must use a vessel to walk amongst a species not their own."

"They _possess_ someone?"

"Essentially, yes," confirmed the Doctor. "But their faith requires them to ask permission first, unlike their sub-species, demons."

"Angels and demons? _Faith_?" laughed Amy. "You weren't kidding about religious wars, were you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I wasn't," he agreed. "There is a lot here you won't understand, which is why I've asked for your silence. The Winchesters are good people. They've lived hard lives, made choices I wouldn't necessarily agree with, but their hearts are in the right place. I know their history well; have had to in order to avoid getting involved. But there's a lot Sam and Dean don't understand either. When I said religious wars, I meant it. Just a few years ago, the Winchesters derailed a full-fledged Christian apocalypse from destroying the world."

Rory's eyebrows shot up at that. "What?" he sputtered. "How didn't we know about that?"

"You were travelling with me," pointed out the Doctor. "But you'd likely have not noticed it anyway. It was very subtle. Swine flu outbreak, tsunamis, earthquakes and other natural disasters, they were all signs. It was all orchestrated to appear natural so humanity ignored it. And then the demons would strike when it was too late for anyone to make a stand."

"Anyone except the Winchesters?" questioned Rory.

The Doctor nodded. "They were forewarned by the angels. They are a prophetic race, and have some skill in time travel, being able to transport themselves across the planet at the blink of an eye, as well as back and forth through time, although not like the Time Lords. It's probably more similar to the rudimentary time travel you humans develop in the 51st century."

Amy rolled her eyes. "When you're done tooting your own horn, feel free to continue."

The Doctor smiled. "You know me, Amelia Pond, I do love tooting my own horn," he teased, before continuing, "The angels have inhabited the Earth since the beginning, or at least they've been in dimensions surrounding the planet – Heaven, essentially – if not physically on this plane. That's another thing they can do; create dimensions. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory... they're all dimensions created by the angels. The fact that Sam and Dean have been caught up with them so much probably explains the possibilities surrounding their timelines... Anyway, they're mixed up in all the religious mythology of the Earth."

Rory kneaded his forehead. "This is a lot to take in, Doctor," he admitted. "I'm not saying I've ever been a religious kind of guy, but you've just... blasphemed a lot."

The Doctor grinned at that. "I'm walking talking blasphemy, Rory Pond," he said, before adding more seriously, "Sam and Dean don't believe in aliens; that much is clear. They're certainly not 'religious kind of guys,' either, but it will take them a while to accept that angels aren't warriors of God, but creatures from another planet."

Amy nodded slowly and dropped back down onto the sofa next to the Doctor. She twisted her body to face him, and the Doctor caught her gaze. "So," she began slowly. "You want us to keep quiet for now, don't you?"

The Doctor smiled. "You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

She matched his smile. "Alright," she agreed, before shaking her head in disbelief. "I really thought I was becoming immune to surprises for a while there," she laughed.

"If you wanna become immune to surprises, you should try being a Winchester," said a voice at the door. The three companions turned to face a tall man who stood in the frame, his long hair pushed back off his face to reveal high cheekbones and a large forehead. His eyes looked haunted, and the Doctor finally rose to his feet.

"Sam Winchester," he said cheerfully. "We've been waiting for you."


	4. Chapter 3

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings: **Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

**A/N: **First off, just wanna say thank you to everyone who's reviewed or added the story to their favourites/alerts. Would love some more feedback though, sometimes I'm a little unsure about whether I'm getting the characters right! Secondly, how good was season 7's premiere of Supernatural? Blew my freaking mind! Just want to remind people that this story will vary from the way the season is heading, for obvious reasons. Reason number 1of course being the Doctor and company! :P Although, I'll probably take even longer to update now as I've got the new season to compare myself to, not to mention it's end of semester and all my assignments are due. Blah. But enjoy, nonetheless, and don't forget to review! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"So what do you think?" asked Dean as he made his way into the kitchen, careful to shut the door behind him. "Can we trust them?"

Bobby shrugged. He was sat at the kitchen table, papers strewn across its surface. Dean walked over to him, looking down at the papers. Most were dated from the early noughties, and all were about alien sightings in the UK. Dean frowned, picking one up. _Mysterious man saves local employee from Regent Street explosion... linked to suspicions of 'living' mannequins... Is London under attack?_

"Living mannequins?" Dean mused aloud, tossing the paper back onto one of the piles on the desk. "Me and Sam dealt with something like that not long ago. It was just a ghost."

Bobby shrugged again, scratching his beard absently. "I don't know how to explain any of this bull," he said, waving a dismissive hand at the mess in front of him. "All I know is it's all somehow linked to the Doctor."

"Huh," was all Dean said in response. After a beat, he asked, "What do you make of Sammy calling him here?"

"Plausible, I guess," replied Bobby. "We know Sam's got some latent psychic ability, that's for sure... and whatever the Doctor is, he's definitely screaming 'psychic'..." Bobby trailed off for a moment, a thoughtful look upon his face. Dean folded his arms and waited, knowing prodding the gruff hunter too soon would get him little more than a growl in response. "You know, it might be worth letting him take a look at Sam. He might be able to help him."

"What, like, patch up the psychic wall in his head?" asked Dean. "Would that even work?"

Bobby shook his head. "You got me," he answered. "But it's worth a shot."

Dean couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Am I the only one who sees the irony in that? 'Hey Sammy, the alien doc you called is here to help you with your psychic head.'"

"That's not ironic, idjit, that's just coincidence," answered Bobby, but Dean could see the smile hidden behind the old hunter's bushy beard.

"I don't believe in coincidences," retorted Dean.

Bobby rolled his eyes before stretching and getting to his feet. He walked over to the counter, fixing himself a mug of coffee as he spoke, "You give me a day and I'm going to find out everything there is to know about the Doctor. I don't think he means us any harm... at the very least I don't think he'd do anything to risk that couple he's here with... but just keep your eyes open anyway. We can't afford surprises right now."

Dean nodded, running a hand across his jaw. "Do you think that he can help us with..." he trailed off, hating himself for not being able to finish the sentence.

"With our God-shaped problem?" finished Bobby not unkindly. "Here's hoping."

Dean nodded once more, dropping his gaze to the floor before heading for the living room. "Dean," began Bobby hesitantly, stopping the oldest Winchester in his tracks. Dean turned to face the old hunter, his shoulder's squared. He knew what was coming.

"Yeah, Bobby?" he said anyway.

Bobby let out a sigh, returning to his seat at the kitchen table. He lifted his eyes to look straight into Dean's defiant gaze. "Son, I know this must be hard for you. Cas meant a lot to all of us."

Dean visibly stiffened at Bobby's words. His throat felt tight. He wanted to tell Bobby he was fine, to leave it alone, that one of his friends stabbing him in the back wasn't anything new in the life of Dean Winchester, but the words didn't come and he simply stood there.

Bobby seemed surprised at his reaction – or lack of reaction. Dean was sure the old man had expected shouting and harsh words. He most certainly would not have expected stiff silence. Then something must have dawned on Bobby because it was like a curtain had been drawn back from behind the man's eyes all of a sudden. His eyebrows shot up underneath his trucker hat. He looked lost for words.

"What?" managed Dean gruffly, his voice as raspy as when he'd had to climb his way out of a pine box barely four years ago.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "We'll get through this, son."

Dean nodded, fighting the urge to laugh like he had at Sam. "Yeah, Bobby. Okay." And then he turned back around and exited the kitchen, his shoulders shaking with the tension in his back.

When Dean re-entered the living area he had his game face back in place, but the facade was instantly dropped upon seeing his brother standing where Dean had been resting earlier. "Sammy," he breathed and without hesitation he closed the distance between them, gripping his brother's shoulders. He looked into Sam's face, reading the haunted look there which broke his heart. "How are you feeling, man?"

Sam smiled grimly. "Like Hell," he quipped. Dean tried to hide his flinch. He released his brother from his grip and turned to the Doctor.

"Well, I'm guessing you introduced yourselves," he said before glancing back at Sam once more. "You wanna tell me why you called him here? Or _how_, for that matter?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at that. Taking a step towards the Doctor, he jerked a thumb at his own chest. "_I_ called you here?" he repeated in surprise. "How the hell did I do that? I don't even believe in aliens."

"So much for being immune to surprises," mumbled Rory to no one in particular and Dean nearly laughed at the matching bitchfaces Sam and Amy directed at the man.

"It may have been an unconscious effort," suggested the Doctor mildly.

Sam snorted. "You got that right," he answered. "I've been unconsciously battling my own mind all afternoon so can't imagine how else it could've happened."

The Doctor seemed intrigued at that. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his tone.

That question seemed to take a lot of the wind out of Sam's sails. "Nothing," he replied flatly.

The Doctor tilted his head slightly, staring at Sam with such intensity that Dean was suddenly, painfully reminded of Castiel. Thankfully, before Dean could follow that train of thought, the Doctor spoke, "Let's see, someone set up a wall inside your head, shielding you from God-awful memories..." he began slowly, and then laughed awkwardly. "Bad pun. Sorry," he apologised before continuing, "The wall's collapsed now though, hasn't it? You're struggling to keep yourself in one piece. That's where you've been all afternoon, fighting your memories. That's why your call for help was so powerful."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at how on the mark the Time Lord was, but supposed it had something to do with his psychic routine. He watched as the alien paused thoughtfully, before asking, "Sammy, did you scratch at the wall?"

"It's _Sam_," said Sam pointedly, clearly irritated at being treated like a child. Dean could hardly blame him. _Only Dean gets to call me that_, the memory flashed in Dean's mind suddenly. But he knew Sam's testiness was less about the nickname and more about how the Doctor had spoken as though he were asking a five year old whether he'd been scratching his chicken pox.

When it became clear that Sam wasn't going to say anything else, Dean answered, "_He_ didn't break the wall."

The Doctor nodded understandingly, not taking his eyes from Sam. "So it was broken on purpose," he said sadly. "I'm sorry."

Dean continued to watch closely, forcing himself to remain still, as the Doctor took a step towards his brother. He reminded himself, as the Doctor slowly lifted one of his hands, that Bobby had suggested this. Even when every instinct in him told him to stand between his brother and a potential threat, he told himself firmly that the Doctor could help Sam...

"May I?" asked the Doctor when he had raised his hand to chest-height.

Sam narrowed his eyes, leaning away from the Doctor's outstretched hand instinctively. "'May I' what?" he replied warily.

The Doctor smiled sadly. "I want to access your memories," he answered calmly. "See if I can find a way to help you."

Sam widened his eyes so quickly it appeared almost comical, and then he shook his head furiously. "No," he said. "No way."

The Doctor looked almost crest-fallen at Sam's adamant refusal and dropped his hand back to his side. "Sam," began Dean uncertainly, and Sam took a step back from the Doctor while glaring at his brother.

"No, Dean," he repeated firmly. "No way. You can't make me."

Sam stalked out of the living room before Dean could stop him, and he heard the front door slam shut behind him. Dean sighed, running a hand along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble he normally sported becoming short whiskers. At this rate, he'd have a full-on beard before the week was out, but the last thing on his mind was shaving. He was debating whether to chase after Sam, when he felt Amy's hand touch his arm. He turned to face her, surprised. She returned his gaze with concern shining in her eyes. Genuine human concern; there was nothing other-worldly about Amy Pond. He surprised himself at how pleased that made him, how much comfort he took from it.

"Is he okay?" she asked gently.

Dean shrugged. "He's been through a lot," he supplied. _We all have_. "He'll come around."

Amy nodded. "The Doctor only wants to help him. I know he's a bit... odd, and he doesn't like to explain himself – at least, not in any way most people can understand," she said, pausing to offer a brief smile over her shoulder at the alien, before continuing, "But he's great, really. He's my best friend. I'd trust him with my life, with Rory's life. With our daughter's life."

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked from Rory to Amy, before jerking his fingers between them both. "You have a daughter? You're parents? Where is she?"

Amy smiled. Was there a bit of sadness behind those eyes, Dean wondered, before she answered, "Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey. It's complicated."

He gave a short laugh at that. "I bet," he replied. Still smiling, he added, "Seriously though. You're a _MILF!"_

"Oi! I may be a thousand years old, but I certainly know what _that_ means," said the Doctor pointedly, "The woman's husband is sitting right here, Dean!"

Dean smiled apologetically at Rory, who shook his head, a smile crinkling his eyes. "Ignore him," he said lightly. "He's cock-blocked me enough times, haven't you, Doctor? I haven't forgotten about the bunk beds."

"Not to mention hitting on our daughter right in front us," pointed out Amy, hands on hips.

"What?" spluttered the Doctor. "You can't hold that against me! We didn't even know she was your daughter then!"

"This is crazy," said Dean in amazement. "Your lives are way too 'Back to the Future' for me."

"Please," The Doctor snorted. "The TARDIS is far cooler than that old DeLorean."

Amy rolled her eyes fondly. "Boys and their toys," she laughed.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I can appreciate. You should see _my_ baby when she's in her prime," he replied earnestly, before dropping into silence, suddenly all too aware of how damaged his pride and joy really was. It didn't help that thinking of the Impala only brought back his and Sam's conversation earlier that day with a sickening clarity. _In four days we'll be dead anyway, so what's the point?_

He let out a sigh, feeling ashamed at how hopeless he had let himself sound in front of his brother. The poor bastard was going through Hell, quite literally albeit in his mind, and instead of being the supportive big brother – instead of giving him hope that they would get through this, he was too busy feeling sorry for himself, drowning in booze and misery.

Amy seemed to sense his change in mood, which he was grateful for. He was starting to feel a little like a schizophrenic. She offered him a slight smile. "That car you were sitting on when we arrived?" she asked gently.

He nodded. "Yeah, that's her. She's a beauty," he said in a soft voice. "We ran into a bit of trouble only a couple of days ago, though..." He trailed off and Amy didn't push him for any more details, instead she simply nodded her understanding. He sighed once more. "I'm gonna find Sammy," he told them. He looked around the living room, before adding, "Feel free to have a look around, I guess. Can't imagine sitting on a moth-eaten couch all afternoon can be much fun when you've got all of time and space at your disposal."

He grimaced a little at the memories his words evoked. Years ago squatting in a dilapidated house, the night before almost-certain death... _So, last night on Earth, what are your plans?_ All of time and space at his fingertips, and... _I just thought I'd sit here quietly._

He shoved the memories aside, and walked stiffly out of the living room. Pausing at the threshold of the room, however, he added with a hint of his humour from only moments ago, "Just don't touch the decor. Assume it's all loaded."

Man, he really was becoming schizophrenic.


	5. Chapter 4

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings: **Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

**A/N: **Just want to apologise for how long it's taken me to update this story. Uni work is almost over, so will (hopefully) have more time to write. I really, really want to stay motivated and actually finish this story because I have great ideas as to where it's heading... Also, I feel I should mention that this story seems to be heading more blatantly down the Dean/Cas track after writing this chapter. It was definitely on the cards before that if you read the summary... (they are my favourite pairing after all) but Sam's inner monologue during his conversation with Dean has kind of sealed the deal for me. Not sure where it will go from here but just thought I'd warn those of you not interested in that aspect of the story :)

As always, your comments and opinions are appreciated!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Sam walked through Bobby's yard aimlessly, kicking at loose rubble and spare car parts as he went. He could still feel the tension in his shoulders and forcibly tried to relax his hulking frame. The setting sun glinted off all the glass and metal from the wrecks surrounding him. He could feel the temperature dropping with the approach of nightfall through his threadbare t-shirt; the sweat on his back becoming chilled. He let out a sigh, aiming his booted foot at some scrap. Yet another night was passing by all too quickly. The days were disappearing before their eyes, the wasted hours slipping between their fingers like grains of sand in a timepiece. _In four days we'll be dead anyway, so what's the point?_ Dean's words were looking more and more likely, thought Sam grimly.

When the young hunter had come outside his feet had automatically taken him to the Impala, but once he had seen the ridiculous looking "spaceship" only a few feet from the car, he had kept walking until he was lost amongst the wreckage, Bobby's house only a dim outline in the darkening sky. Dean would probably be angry at him for storming off in his unpredictable condition, he thought, and for a brief moment he considered turning back. He decided against it as quickly as the idea had crossed his mind, however, and instead parked himself by a banged up old Corolla.

Who the hell was 'the Doctor'? He passed out for a few hours and then everything he had accepted as his life was turned upside down. How many times had he and Dean chased up extraterrestrials only to find out they were either a hoax or a supernatural entity? There was no such thing as aliens. They had done research on this, goddammit! Why had Dean and Bobby accepted it so easily?

He sighed. He didn't like it. It was all out-there crazy and he didn't know enough. He needed more facts before he could decide what to do, much less what to think. It didn't help that he was confused and exhausted both mentally and physically. His body didn't feel like an extension of himself anymore, rather something that simply housed him. The trouble of having a jumble of memories to sort through of his body walking the Earth while his soul took a beating downstairs, he supposed grimly. He let his thoughts wander, carrying him away from his own torturous memories and instead focusing on Castiel. He wondered if the former angel – or even if Ruby, for that matter – had ever experienced the same kind of disconnection that he currently felt; like as if they were simply a consciousness contained inside a body, a nanosecond of distance between touch-recognition, between hand-eye coordination... being so very _aware_ of every muscle and yet not at the same time... Surely that's what it would feel like to be an Angel or a Demon inside a host-less vessel?

At least, he was pretty certain Cas had been the only one riding around in Jimmy Novak's meat suit... before he had gone and swallowed Purgatory, anyway. From what Sam had gathered from Dean, it seemed likely that Castiel had let his vessel's soul pass on to the next life instead of being trapped sharing his body with a falling angel in what could have very well ended up being Hell on Earth. In any case, Jimmy had never gone back to his family when Castiel, fully restored Angel of the Lord, had returned to Heaven after the aborted Apocalypse, spending the better part of a year as a _multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent._

Which could only mean that Cas had kept Jimmy's body as his own. As though he had developed some kind of affinity for it, or even an attachment to it... Sam wondered if the former angel would still have that same attachment now he was running around as head sheriff, with a billion other souls crammed in there with him. Was it a weakness they could somehow exploit? Could they remind him of who he was?

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He was clutching at straws, he knew. They were way out of their depth, and this train of thought really wasn't helping him from not thinking about the memories he was slowly drowning in.

"Sammy?"

His name cut through the dusk, the sound of his brother's gruff voice unmistakable. Sam called flatly, "I'm here."

Dean appeared from behind an old van before stopping a few feet from Sam. The two brothers stared each other down before Dean offered lamely, "Hey."

"Hey," replied Sam automatically.

Dean shifted his stance and Sam watched him closely as he rubbed the back of his neck before moving to his jaw. He watched as his brother licked his lips, a tell-tale sign that he was about to offer some of his elder Winchester wisdom, before he began lightly, "So I guess waking up to three aliens on the couch is kind of weird, even for us, huh?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm not letting him in my head, Dean," he answered.

Dean facade faltered a little at Sam's blatant refusal. It made him feel uncomfortable, as though he were acting like a petulant child. But it didn't change how he felt. How could he let him read his memories? Let him _know_... it was just too much. He couldn't share what had been done to him. He suppressed a shudder at the thought.

"He only wants to help you, Sam," said Dean in a tone that sounded less hopeful and more desperate than Sam was sure Dean had intended. The words made Sam feel a surge of anger. How could Dean possibly ask this of him? He _knew_ how bad Hell was, and _he_ hadn't even wanted to share it with his own brother, much less with some 'Doctor' who claimed to be a time-travelling alien. How could he even suggest it? After everything they had been through, how could Dean trust the Doctor so much?

And before he even thought about what he was saying, the words escaped his mouth, "I swear, Dean, this is just like Gordon all over again!"

Dean's eyes narrowed at Sam's harsh words. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he growled in response.

A part of Sam knew he should shut his mouth, that what he said next wouldn't help matters, but he was angry and the words poured from him in a defiant rush, "How can you trust the Doctor? How do you know he's what he says he is?"

"He did the tests, Sam. They all did."

Sam snorted. "So? How many creatures have we come up against that were immune? For fuck's sake Dean, _Azazel_ was immune to holy water!" He shook his head in disbelief. "You just can't help yourself, can you? Cas hurt you, I get it, I do. He's hurt us all, but he was your _friend_, man. It took you _years_ to completely trust him. The Doctor's been here, what, five minutes and already he's your _replacement_?"

Sam inhaled sharply, suddenly out of breath, his anger spent. He looked away from his brother's face, suddenly feeling awful for what he had just said. For some undefinable reason, he had almost said the word "rebound" instead of "replacement" but had stopped himself at the last minute. He was marching into dangerous territory, he knew. If he were honest, he was surprised he hadn't been punched already. Dean had just let him let loose. What was that about?

He brushed his hair out of his face, and slowly turned to meet his brother's gaze. Dean was completely immobile, staring at Sam with an unreadable look hidden in the depths of his green eyes. Sam stared back, unsure what to make of Dean's impassiveness. After a beat, Dean sighed. He dropped his eyes for a moment, shifting his stance once more, before looking back up at Sam. "What's this really about, Sam?" he asked in a resigned tone, his gruff voice sounding hoarse. "Are you angry at me for not caring about Cas? Is that what you think?"

Sam shook his head. "No, that's not... I..." He let out a frustrated sigh, unable to explain himself.

Dean grimaced. "Or are you just scared of letting someone see how bad Hell really was?"

Sam shot his brother a startled look before averting his gaze. Of course he should have known that Dean would get it, would get _him_. He was his brother after all. Dean had been looking after him his whole damn life, of course he would know.

Sam could see Dean's look soften out of the corner of his eye. "It's easy being the one asking the questions, huh?" he said gently. He took a step closer and then Sam could feel his hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. They stood like that for a while as Sam tried to stop himself from shaking, from thinking. He leaned into his brother's touch, taking what strength he could from it and implored himself to think of anything but Hellfire.

After a time, Dean dropped his hand and Sam opened his eyes, not remembering when he had even closed them. He felt more relaxed than he had in some time. Dean was looking out across the yard away from the house. Then he spoke, "You know that no matter what happened to you in the Pit, I'd never look at you any differently." Sam liked that it wasn't a question, that it was Dean's simple statement of fact. He tried to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt when he remembered that _he_ had looked at Dean differently after he had come back from Hell. He had forgiven him for what he had done, of course, knowing Dean would never forgive himself, but his revelations had only made Sam believe that Dean had come back broken. He had believed his older brother to be only a shadow of his former self. _He's not strong enough_... Had that been the demon blood talking, he wondered now, feeling guilty and ashamed.

Dean cut into his thoughts once more, "After I came back... Having Cas really helped a lot."

Sam didn't say a word, unsure what Dean was about to tell him, but knowing if he uttered a sound he would surely spook him into silence once more. It was kind of weird, he thought suddenly, how he sometimes treated his brother as though he were a wild animal, yet he also found it oddly fitting. Dean was always walking the line between fight or flight, especially when it came to sharing how he felt.

"Having Cas... having this crazy powerful being who knew me inside and out, who knew my _soul_. You know he remade me completely, right? He knows every inch of me. Certainly reminded me of it enough times," he broke off suddenly, his top lip curling slightly as he shook his head. It was obvious to Sam that Dean had said more than he had really wanted to. Sam hardly dared to breathe. _He knows every inch of me_ replayed inside his head followed quickly by _Dean and I do share a more profound bond..._ Sam felt dizzy with the implications. Was there more to this than he had ever realised? Surely not, he knew Dean better than anyone. He would have _known_. He looked at his brother's face, trying to read between the lines. Trying to see what he had been missing all this time, and suddenly it hit Sam like a ton of bricks. Memories flashed before his eyes, all the intense looks that had made Sam feel awkward, like he was interrupting something, all the taunts from Balthazar, from Uriel, from Crowley... Hell, even from himself and Bobby. Everyone had _known_ but no one had realised... Not Sam, not even Dean. Especially not Dean. He wondered if Castiel had ever consciously known... being a mostly-emotionless _Angel of the freaking Lord_.

Then again... _I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you_.

Holy crap, what had Sam stumbled onto?

Dean's voice broke through Sam's shocked thoughts, "What I'm saying is, Cas pulled me from the Pit. He saw what I did there. He _knew, _Sammy, and he didn't care. He never once looked at me like it had changed me. That helped. It reminded me I was still _me_, despite everything.

"The Doctor can help you, Sam. You _need_ help. You're no good to us on the job if I'm gonna have to worry about you keeling over or hallucinating, or worse," finished Dean. He finally returned his gaze to Sam, and Sam saw the tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to fall. He saw the determination, too, and the conviction that he was right. That this could _help_ Sam.

Eventually, against his better judgement, Sam nodded. If Dean believed that much that the Doctor could help, then he would trust his brother. After opening up to him that much it was the least he could do, right? Then he smiled. "Just got you to bare your soul about Cas _and_ Hell in one go, I guess that has to count for something."

Dean thumped him one, but he was smiling, which made Sam's smile broaden. "Damn straight, bitch," was all he said.

"Jerk," replied Sam automatically, and for a moment, it felt like old times. For a moment, it didn't feel as though they had both been to Hell and back, it didn't feel like they only had days to live. For a moment, everything was as it should be.


	6. Chapter 5

**Characters:** From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

**Warnings:**Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

**Summary:** The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

**A/N:**Yet another apology about the lack of updates. I'm actually now moving country – going to be studying in England (as opposed to Australia) for the next six months so haven't really had as much spare time as I'd have liked to continue writing, but I'm sure once I'm there as I won't really know anyone straightaway and will be ridiculously poor once I factor in the currency exchange rate I'll have all the time in the world to sit at home and avoid studying via writing fanfiction. So don't give up on me just yet! I really want to finish this story! :)

As always, your comments and opinions are appreciated!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

When Sam and Dean Winchester finally came back inside, they found the three time-travellers in Bobby's library. "Ah, there you are! This friend of yours, Bobby Singer, interesting fellow, but that's to be expected I suppose. We know a Song who's just as interesting, if maybe a little less grizzly. Something about the name, I'd say," he said with a smirk at his companions. "Then again, it could just be her parents."

Rory Williams – not Pond, as much as the Doctor tried to push that – rolled his eyes at the Doctor before the Time Lord continued his rant, "You seem to have a large variety of blood in your fridge, I've noticed. Hope you don't ever mistake it for jam; that could be... unpleasant."

At this, Rory almost laughed at the expressions the two Winchester brothers gave the Doctor. He was pretty much used to the endless tirades from the Time Lord so it was always amusing to see what he was like from an outsider's perspective. To get another glimpse at the magic of the crazy man his wife had fallen for all those years ago, a magic Rory was slowly but inexorably becoming immune to...

Sam squared his broad shoulders, a determined look upon his face. "Dean says you can help," he said, and was there an edge to his words, a challenge, maybe? Rory turned his attention to the Doctor who hadn't taken his eyes from Sam. The pair shared an epic stare down. Amy looked back and forth between the two of them before catching Rory's eye. He shrugged. He had no idea what was going on.

After a moment, Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and everyone shifted their focus to the eldest Winchester. "Should we get this show on the road?" he asked, clamping a reassuring hand on his brother's arm.

With a nod, the Doctor took a seat at Bobby's desk and motioned for Sam to come forward. Dean dragged a spare chair behind him, its legs scraping against the hardwood floor and Sam accepted it with a small tilt of his head before sitting down across from the Time Lord. He looked hesitant, Rory noted, while the Doctor looked simply alert. Dean hovered over the pair of them like an anxious parent, making Rory remarkably more nervous. He wondered how Sam could stand it.

A hand slipped into his, and he looked into the eyes of his wife. They shared a whole conversation in just that one look, their concern and confusion for what was about to happen apparent in their gaze. Rory had never seen the Doctor read someone's mind. He knew he could do it, but he had never been all that inclined to let the Time Lord try it out on him. To be perfectly honest, he understood Sam's reluctance completely. Who would want someone sifting through their thoughts and memories? They're meant to be _private_. Sam really must love his brother if he was willing go through with this on Dean's say-so.

"So do we hold hands?" said Sam in a flat tone.

The Doctor didn't respond; he just tilted his head curiously, a faint smile upon his lips. Rory noticed how the two Winchesters stiffened at his reaction. He frowned, unsure what to make of it. Sam's back was ramrod straight in the chair he was sitting on, as though someone had shoved a stick right up his arse, and Dean... Rory could practically _see_ the tension rolling off him in waves; his jaw was clenched so tight it could have been wired shut.

Then the spell was broken when the Doctor shifted, giving his head a small shake. "You keep your cards close to your chest, Sam Winchester."

"Wait, what? You were doing it then?" asked Sam, his tone incredulous.

"Trying to," replied the Doctor. "You being psychic, I thought I'd be able to find a connection pretty easily... but you don't seem very open to this."

Sam snorted. "You don't say."

"Perhaps I'll have to use physical stimulation after all," mused the Doctor softly.

"Physical _what_?" asked Sam quickly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Doctor's hand reach for him across the table. Rory could see the battle within Sam to stay still written across his features as the Doctor's fingers brushed against his temple. He watched as Sam's eyes scrunched shut and the Doctor's fell closed.

It only took half a minute. Half a minute of calm as Rory, Amy and Dean watched Sam and the Doctor in an awkward silence. Thirty seconds and then all Hell broke loose. Their eyes snapped open in unison and there was a brief moment of unseeing terror between them before Sam stood up in a rush, overturning his chair and the desk in one terrifying flash of movement. The Doctor fell backwards in his chair, the desk atop him, his eyes wide and unseeing.

For what was only a few moments but really felt like an age, Rory stood completely dumbfounded as the scene before him unfurled. Dean had reacted instantly, his instincts' sharp and propelling him to his brother in a rush, Sam's name on his lips in a panicked shout. The scuffle between them was lightning fast; Rory had never seen anything like it. Saving the world with the Doctor included a lot less precision fighting and a lot more improvised running. He gaped as Dean blocked attack after attack from Sam while trying to get closer to him to calm him down. Over and over, he shouted his brother's name over Sam's howls, "Sammy! Sam! It's _me. _It's your brother! Sam!"

Amy started forward and Rory wasn't sure if she intended to help Dean or check on the Doctor, but it was enough to break him from his stupor. He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her back towards him. "Wait," he said gently and she scowled at him.

Dean couldn't calm Sam down, that much was plain. He had his brother pinned to the floor, but he was screaming and struggling so much that Dean was having a hard time keeping him there.

"Please! No more! Please! Dean! Dean!" Sam continued to shout.

"I'm right here, Sammy! I'm here! You're safe," replied Dean in a soothing voice, leaning as close as he could to his brother's face without risking a head butt as his body thrashed beneath him. All trace of softness left his voice, however, as he spared a glance at Amy and Rory and growled, "Wake that bloody _Doctor_ up and find out what the hell he's done!"

Amy broke free of Rory's grasp at Dean's words, rushing to the Doctor's side. Rory followed her and they quickly lifted the table off his chest before kneeling on either side of him. "Doctor?" murmured Amy softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Rory's medical training kicked into gear and he checked the Doctor's vitals, although part of him wondered whether they really _were_ his vitals, considering they were a different species. He tried his best, though, and when Amy looked at him expectantly, he offered, "He's got two steady heartbeats pounding away. I think he's just in some kind of... psychic shock."

His wife's brow furrowed at that. "Psychic shock?" she repeated dully, before she turned her attention back to the Time Lord and slapped him across the face. "How's that for a shock?" she muttered, her Scottish accent ringing thick. "Doctor! Get up!"

Rory stared at her in surprise, as she slapped him again. The only sign from the Doctor was a pink handprint upon his cheek. He didn't move an inch. Not until Amy leaned down close to his ear and whispered softly, "Please Doctor. We _need_ you."

Then the Time Lord was stirring awake, sitting up in a rush, his head almost colliding with Amy's. Rory jumped a little before he placed a hand gently on the Doctor's chest. "Slow down there. Don't get up too soon."

"Where's Sam?" the Doctor croaked weakly. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his assaulted cheek before running a hand through his unruly hair.

At this, Rory realised that Sam was no longer screaming. He glanced over to see Dean standing up, a hand covering his jaw. He looked miserable and guilt-ridden. Bobby had appeared in the room at some point. He was kneeling next to Sam's unconscious form, looking up at Dean. Rory assumed one of the hunters had knocked the youngest Winchester out. For the best, he supposed, although he wondered how many bumps to the head these guys had taken over the years.

The Doctor rose unsteadily to his feet, gripping Rory's forearm with surprising strength. Rory braced himself and helped the Time Lord to stand upright; Amy clutched at his other side in an attempt to help.

Dean turned his hard gaze on the three of them, his eyes flashing with barely concealed helplessness and fury. "What did you do to him?" he growled. "You were supposed to help him, you son of a bitch!"

The Doctor shook his head softly. "I'm sorry, Dean," he told the eldest Winchester. Dean stepped forward, possibly to throw a punch at the Time Lord but Bobby stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, the old man's knees creaking in his haste to get to his feet. Dean shot him a glare before returning his hard gaze back to the Doctor.

Rory could see the concern in the Doctor's face but also the utter horror. Whatever he had witnessed inside Sam's head had been _bad_. It made Rory ache a little in sympathy for the Winchesters, and all the more grateful for the life he had back in Leadworth with Amy.

What the hell were they doing seeking out this kind of danger?

Rory pushed those thoughts aside to contemplate at another time as the Doctor continued, "The... extent of Sam's suffering took me by surprise." Dean visibly flinched at the Doctor's words. "I lost control. I'm sorry, Dean. Really."

Dean let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, you're sorry. Well that's not gonna fix Sam, is it?" Fear and anger warred on the man's features before he closed his eyes, stilling his entire body. When he opened them again, it was like a shutter had been closed. Rory wasn't looking at Sam Winchester's brother anymore. He was looking at a soldier. At a _hunter_.

The Doctor took a step forward, shrugging out of Rory's grip with ease. Amy clung onto him for a moment longer; wanting to make sure he was steady. The Doctor offered her a small smile, before she finally let go of him, taking a step back to stand alongside Rory, her hand slipping into his once more. Rory looked down at their clasped hands and entwined their fingers before lifting his head back to the confrontation before them.

"Dean," began the Doctor steadily. "I _can_ help Sam. It will just take longer than I originally anticipated. I'm sorry I didn't consider the extent of his suffering before attempting this."

Nothing remotely resembling fear or concern showed on Dean's face anymore. He was as impassive as stone. Rory wondered whether Dean would let the Doctor try again. At this point, he looked ready to throw them out, or kill them. He half expected the hunter to train a gun on the three of them at any moment. He wondered whether Bobby would defend them or encourage Dean, and realised with a sick feeling to his stomach that he didn't know. He had no idea what these men were capable of.

_He had no idea._

But the Doctor did. The Doctor said he knew the Winchesters' story. He said they were good people... Could the Doctor's word be enough? He glanced down at his and Amy's clasped hands once more. Could his wife's faith in her Raggedy Doctor be enough for Rory?

It had to be.

Rory looked up as Dean sighed. His stance seemed a little more relaxed, and Rory wondered what he had missed. Bobby was staring at Dean with a sort of half-smile half-grimace, so perhaps the two had shared another telling look similar to the one in the living room earlier...

Finally, Dean said, "How long will it take?"

The Doctor sprang into action at Dean's resignation. "A night, possibly two," he supplied. "Now, is there somewhere we can go where we will be secure? We're going to very vulnerable to attack during this exchange unfortunately. Out like a light and screaming psychic waves in all directions... I suppose we could go into the TARDIS if need be..."

Dean shook his head. "We've got somewhere," he answered. "It's the safest place in all of South Dakota."

"_All_ of South Dakota?" chimed in Amy, with a hint of amusement in her tone. "My, my, where is this special place?"

Dean offered her a crooked smile. "Beneath your feet, Red," he answered. "Bobby Singer's basement is home to our own little panic room."


End file.
